Precious Gifts
by Connie Connike
Summary: -FE7, LegaultHeath- A simple, childish game on a snowy day leads to the blossoming of a new relationship...


_I wrote this last December as part of a Secret Santa thing on dA. The person liked Heath, Legault, and Priscilla and like Legault/Heath and Heath/Priscilla, so... :3  
_

_Blah blah blah, I don't own the characters, they belong to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo._

* * *

_It started as a simple, childish game, with the prize being the right to a wyvern rider's affection. The two competitors had their eye on the prize, both madly in love with him.  
They kept their distance, though, afraid to offend their object of affection, afraid to fall out of his graces. And so, the two lingered back, both dropping hints in their own manner.  
The hints were obvious, but didn't seem to affect the wyvern rider in any way. Hope was beginning to fade, as their journey was getting closer and closer to the climax._

_And still, they never faltered._

_One day, one of them started a conversation with the other..._

--

The snow fell softly to the ground, muffling any sounds with a blanket of white. Night had slowly settled in, claiming any last speckles of light around. Most people had already retreated back to their tents, to gain some precious sleep.

One was still awake.

Legault leaned against a tree, using the branches as cover from the falling flakes. His violet cloak was wrapped tightly around his body, preserving his body heat so he wouldn't freeze. He exhaled once, his breath coming out in one long, cloudy strand.  
"Where is she..." He murmured softly to himself, irritation growing with every passing second. The thief called her out for a reason, and she still hadn't arrived!  
"I'll wait _one more minute_, and then I'm heading back in..."

"You called me, Legault?"

He turned around suddenly, towards the new voice. A small smirk grew on his face. "You certainly took your time..."

The girl, Priscilla, stepped forward more, a soft blush on her cheeks. "I-I'm sorry... I forgot..."

Legault shrugged his shoulders. "Eh. Whatever."

She fidgeted slightly, her fingers fiddling with the fringe of her shawl. "So... why did you call me here, Legault?"

He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the suspense build.  
After a few moments, his eyes opened again, and he stepped away from the trunk of the tree. "I'll make this brief." He stared into her eyes. "You like Heath." A bright blush on her cheeks confirmed the statement. He smirked slightly.  
"Well, I'm not going to hand him over that easily."

"... What?" She stared back at him, confusion clear on her face.

He began a slow, steady stride around the troubadour. Step.  
Step.  
Step.  
Step.  
Step. Mentally, he formulated the exact words to say. "... You heard me, Priscilla. Do you understand, or do I need to spell it out for you?"

"..."

"... I see. Anyways." He stopped, whipping around to face her. "I have a... game for you."

"... A game?" He nodded. Priscilla blinked, still as confused as before. "What kind of game?"

"A gift-finding game."

"... Huh?"

The pacing started again. He stared up, through the various branches, to the top of the tree. "It's December 21st. Four days until Christmas. We each have our eye on someone, coincidentally the same person." He paused for a moment for effect.  
"The game will be this: give the best gift to Heath."

"W-what? I couldn't--"

"Let me finish, Priscilla." She fell silent. Sighing lightly, the thief continued to speak. "You'd have until midnight on Christmas Eve to give your gift. It can be anything. And whoever loses this game…" Another smirk came to his face.  
"Will have to leave the winner and Heath alone and not interfere with any sort of… development between them."

It was Priscilla's turn to smile. "… Deal."

--

_… Or so it went.  
So, on that word, the two of them departed for their separate tents, each having ideas swarm their minds relentlessly, thinking of the perfect gift for the one they cared so dearly about._

_Morning came, and they acted. Priscilla went to town, purse in hand, to browse the stores for an item. Legault, meanwhile, kept himself locked away in his tent, only emerging when absolutely necessary._

_December 24th rolled in…_

--

Heath sighed lightly, absentmindedly feeding Hyperion his food. The sun was just beginning to set, the sky painted orange and purple and scarlet red, a bold contrast to the ground's snow white. Other members of the army chattered excitedly about the next day, anxious to learn of the gifts they would be opening at dawn.

He, however, couldn't bring himself to speak.  
_There's something… off…_ He pondered to himself, sighing once more and turning around. The wyvern rider was able to take three steps before he walked straight into someone.

"Oh! Sorry, Heath…"

He looked at the mystery person: it was Priscilla, who was clutching a package close to her chest. "Priscilla! I'm so sorry…"

She shook her head. "No, I'm sorry… I startled you, didn't I…?"

"… A bit."

"…"

"…"

"… Heath. I wanted to give you this." Priscilla said confidently, holding out the package for him to take. With a nod, Heath accepted the parcel. It was small and light, able to fit in the palm of his hand.

"… Thank you, Priscilla."

"You can open it now if you want…"

With another nod, he unwrapped the present.  
Inside was a stuffed doll. It appeared to be handmade, in the image of him. A smile appeared on his face.  
"Wow… this is great, Priscilla. I love it!"

Priscilla smiled shyly. "… Do you like it more than Legault's?"

"… Huh?" He blinked, confused. _What does_ Legault _have to do with this? Unless…_  
"… Priscilla? Was this… some kind of competition?" She flushed nervously, nodding. Heath frowned. "Hm… then why has he been ignoring me lately?" He murmured to himself. The wyvern rider would never admit it to anyone, but he actually _missed_ Legault and his ways that border-lined being a stalker. It made him feel… he didn't even know.

"… Heath?"

Priscilla's call snapped him back into reality. "Priscilla. I've got to go."

"Heath, you don't have to go…"

Heath sighed lightly. "I know I don't _have_ to. But—excuse me." He passed by her, heading towards the tents.  
"—I want to."

--

_… If I remember right, this is his tent._ Heath thought to himself.  
_… Well, here goes nothing._ He cleared his throat. "Legault? You in there?"

There was a slight hesitation, a small rustle, before a reply came. "Mhm."

"... Can I come in?"

"Yeah."  
Heath pushed aside the fabric of the tent's opening. Legault was lying on the ground on his stomach, fully clothed, reading a book with interest. He looked up as Heath entered. "Oh... Hey, Heath."

"Hey, Legault." The wyvern rider sat on the floor, next to where the other man laid. "I'm just going to get straight to the point here."

"Hm?" Legault blinked, looking into Heath's eyes, a confused and innocent expression on his face.

"Why have you been avoiding me lately?" Heath asked sternly, looking back into Legault's eyes with a gaze that didn't falter.

The thief only sighed. "... I guess you noticed, huh?" He closed his book with a "slam", then looked away only slightly, a sad expression on his face.  
"... Did you like it?"

"... What?"

"The space. Did you like it?"

"... I-I'm not sure."

Another sigh. "Heath... I'm going to be honest with you, right here, right now." There was a new-found determination in his eyes, but his smile was weak.  
"I love you, Heath. You... you've made me into a different person. And, well..." He placed his hand gently over Heath's.  
"I'd do anything for you."

Heath blinked, surprised. Legault looked so… fragile, staring at him in the way that he was, as if he were about to shatter. His hand rotated slightly, so he was able to hold Legault's hand in his own, smiling ever-so-slightly at the light contact.  
"Legault..."  
Leaning forward, he softly pressed his lips to Legault's, lingering for only a few moments before pulling away.  
"I love you, too."

--  
_The next morning rolled around before they knew it. The snow from the previous night had melted away, much to the disappointment to the more playful of the army. The traces of the activities of the night before, the snowmen, the snow-forts, the snow-angels, had all disappeared, as if they never existed._

_For Heath and Legault, however, the fun was just beginning._


End file.
